A/N: Sorry this chapter is super short... The rest make up for it.

Part 7

"And that's the full truth of it?" Lord Death asked.

Stein's gaze was focused on the evil, red soul he had finally delivered to the Death Room.

"Yes."

Giving the report had been difficult, and not just for the exhaustion he felt after the full day and night's uninterrupted surgery. The words spilled out easily and with enough clarity, and for some reason he had no hesitation admitting his failures. But as each one was recalled he felt sicker and sicker, and he kept his gaze locked on the corrupted soul that had finally been returned home to remind himself why he was there at all.

Lord Death had cocked his head and was watching him in silence. Assessing him...for what? Deciding on a punishment?

Stein reached up and twisted the screw in his head, and then felt in his pocket for a cigarette. When he pulled the package out it was stained with blood. He grimaced and took one anyway, quickly hiding the small box away again and lighting the stick. It was only a small distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.

"And, how is Spirit?"

Stein rolled his shoulders once, feeling the ache in his muscles from head to toe. After the fight Spirit hadn't regained consciousness no matter how Stein had tried, so he'd been forced to make the journey back to the DWMA carrying him in human form. The trail of blood that marked their path was of a dangerous quantity, and Stein regretted that he'd not had the foresight to tell Spirit to try to maintain his scythe form before he'd passed out, for both their sakes.

"He lost a lot of blood."

Stein thought of how his former partner had looked when he'd finally finished the surgery, unnaturally pale with his face still lined in pain, and his body covered in more stitches than Stein could ever recall using in a single day, let alone in one operation. As if the mutilation of both the front and back of his torso from the array of spikes wasn't enough, the head wounds had been grave. It was nothing short of a miracle that the spikes hadn't damaged anything critical or penetrated deeper, despite having chipped bone at more than one impact.

It would be impossible for the wounds not to leave scars, and again Stein could hear Spirit's voice in his head. Once he learned he had been the one to operate...if he learned it...

"But he is out of danger?"

Stein had been grateful for Naigus's steady presence throughout the surgery, not breaking even once until he had been satisfied that they had done everything they could. He had a vague memory of her offering reassurances when he'd finished, and he thought he could also recall Sid praising his good work when he'd left the dispensary in a daze. But even as he'd shuffled back to his lab with intent to shower and change out of the bloodied scrubs, the ever-present image in his mind was Spirit, his body wounded almost beyond recognition, and the heart monitor sounding in a rhythm much too slow.

He realized suddenly that he didn't think anyone had told Maka, and while father and daughter weren't on the best terms, it was right that she know. He further realized it was his responsibility to tell her, Spirit's injuries being his fault, and he wondered if the young student would be estranged from him as well after she knew the truth of how her father had come so close to death.

"I think so," he finally replied, his eyes downcast. But he could still see Lord Death cock his head at him in the other direction this time.

"I want you to take the next several days off."

"What?"

Lord Death stared at him.

"That's it?"

The Grim Reaper cocked his head again. "You feel you are deserving of some sort of punishment for Spirit's condition."

"He could have died because of me. I failed him as a meister."

Lord Death inclined his head slightly. "You are no longer his meister."

Stein's hands clenched into fists at his sides. As if he needed another reminder... He reached up to turn the screw, but Lord Death raised a hand to halt him.

"Look at me and pay close attention, Stein. Would you have betrayed the DWMA and allied yourself with the Invisible Man?"

Stein nearly dropped his cigarette in surprise at the direct accusation. And he found himself equally surprised at the answer that easily fell from his lips.

"No."

Death inclined his head further.

"And do you feel your life has been meaningless, as Griffin claimed?"

This time, the cigarette hit the floor.

"I..."

Stein suddenly found he had no answer. Was that the real problem? He knew he could never be a willing party to madness. But were the other things Griffin had said about him true?

Death's posture relaxed and he folded his hands in front of him.

"Like I said. Take the next several days off. The punishment you are inflicting upon yourself is enough. But in my opinion...it is not deserved."

Stein wasn't sure if he was dismissed or not, but he turned away numbly, the questions rolling over and over in his mind as his feet carried him out of the Death Room, through the corridors, and out of the academy into the black night.

He wasn't sure how exactly he made it back to his lab, startled back to awareness when his mechanical rodent scurried past his feet as if in greeting. Being forced to address the questions he spent too much time pretending didn't exist, and by Death himself, was the rotten cherry on top of a sour milkshake that had been the last twenty-four hours.

But somehow, that thought too faded as he fell into his bed face-first, still wearing the blood-stained scrubs. Because no matter how he tried to begin to make sense of all that had occurred, the only thing his mind would conjure was the terrifying image of Spirit being ripped apart, his blood staining the sun-scorched sands and his scream of agony tearing through the dawn.

With those horrors replacing so many others that were ever-present in his mind, Stein fell into an exhausted sleep.